Benevolent Coward
by FotoBridgeT2
Summary: Sometimes people have decisions to make in relationships: What happens when Jason Gideon wonders onto the scene of a domestic quarrel? H/P, too. Set post Minimal Loss...a bit different from what I normally write--I think. Hotch/Emily/Gideon focus
1. Chapter 1

PPROLOGUE

Jason Gideon was finally at peace with himself. Nothing relaxed a man like a good day's worth of fishing and a beautiful sunset, he thought as he made the two mile hike back to his campsite from the river where he'd spent all day, alternately fishing and reading. It had been a good day, and now he was ready to fry his catch, open a new bottle of wine, and enjoy the rest of the evening with a good book. Vonnegut, perhaps.

He surprised himself by detouring down the path that would lead past his site and stopped at Dave's cabin. Not that he expected the other profiler to be there—Dave rarely was, these days. Not since returning to the Bureau to take Jason's own spot.

And it wasn't like Dave ever knew Jason was still in the area. Jason never stopped by to say hello, or to check on his once-close friend. But it comforted Jason to know that the possibility existed for him to connect with that former life, if only for a moment or two. So he often stood watching from a hidden path near the front of the property. Just wondering if he'd ever get the nerve to move close enough to speak to the other profiler. There would be less pressure with Dave—he'd not been there for that fateful case by a rail track.

He paused when he realized someone occupied the front porch of Dave's cabin. And it wasn't Dave. Jason lifted his binoculars to his eyes, focusing on the darkheaded woman sitting on the wooden swing. She was thin, beautiful, and if he wasn't mistaken—Agent Emily Prentiss.

What was she doing at Dave's cabin?

She rocked the swing slightly with one bare foot, then pulled it back up under the quilt she had wrapped around herself. Her head she rested against the back of the swing. Jason focused on her face once more, this time catching the faint bruising on her brow, the slight swollen look to her bottom lip. Someone had hurt her, and that angered him. He took a step closer, but stopped. He didn't want to disturb whatever solitude she'd found on Dave's porch.

Why Dave's? Was there something going on between the two of them? What he knew of the woman, it wouldn't surprise him if she had caught Dave's interest. He'd long thought—since a trip to Guantanamo Bay—that she was a fascinating woman. Would it really be so surprising if the other men of the BAU felt the same way?

If so, why did she appear to be there alone?

Didn't she know the type of things that could happen to a woman staying in the woods alone? Surely she did. Hadn't she been right there with him in Idaho when those brothers were shooting people for sport?

As if she'd read his mind, she stood and moved to stare off the edge of the porch at the long winding drive that lead to the county access road. It was then that Jason heard the car pulling up. He jerked his binoculars in that direction.

He watched as the dark sedan parked and a tall, darkhaired man dressed in khakis and a button down jerked out of the vehicle. He walked up to Prentiss with jerky, agitated steps.

Jason moved closer. What was _he _doing here?

Prentiss moved, her body tightening in a way Jason didn't need the binoculars to see. It was obvious to the seasoned profiler that she hadn't expected Hotch to show up. Jason wished he could hear what was being said between them. He moved closer.

"Dammit, Emily, you should have told me where you were going!" Hotch suddenly yelled, and Jason felt his face move into a surprised expression. Hotch rarely ever yelled, and never at a woman. And since when did he call her _Emily? _Was something more going on between them? He dropped the binoculars to focus on the left hand Hotch kept fisting. The wedding ring his friend had worn for years was missing. "I was worried! I had to find out from _Reid _that you'd taken a few days off!"

"I'm sorry, _sir. _I didn't think what I did would matter that much to you." Jason found himself taking a step back from the venom in her normally modulated tones. Emily Prentiss was very, very angry with the man in front of her. Jason couldn't help but wonder why.

"Not matter? Dammit, sweetheart! I think you know better than that!" Hotch took two steps forward, only to stop when the woman held up a staying hand. Jason was now burning with curiosity. What exactly had happened between the two of them since he'd left the BAU. Hell, what had happened to Hotch and Hayley?

He never thought he'd see the day when Hotch would be looking at another woman with such naked…longing…on his face. And it definitely had never occurred to him that Hotch would be looking at Emily Prentiss that way.

"Do I?" Emily challenged. She took a few steps closer to Hotch. Jason wondered if they realized they looked like two magnets drawing inevitably closer to one another. "Not one word. You didn't say even one word, Hotch. What was I supposed to think?"

"I didn't know what to say. Couldn't say anything, or I'd be carrying you out of there." Hotch yelled suddenly. Jason stepped back, nearly tripping over a log. He'd never heard Hotch yell at anyone in quite that manner. The younger man was obviously completely on edge. Jason wondered just how close he was to losing it. "That would have went over real well with half the damned Colorado field office, not to mention the rest of the team!"

"And that would have been so horrible? If Derek and Dave and the others knew?" Emily bit out, yelling back just as loud.

These two were the two people on earth Jason never would have pictured yelling at each other in the midst of a domestic quarrel. And it definitely was domestic. And had been for quite a while, Jason suspected. Their manner with each other was one of a long relationship, though not an _easy _relationship. And if he was correct, Emily was demanding an open acknowledgement.

Jason knew the woman was the kind who valued open honesty, especially with those she cared about. Prentiss wouldn't be an easy woman to love, either, he suspected. She'd demand a man strip himself bare.

Hotch had never been the kind to expose himself that freely, so he could completely understand the strife they were apparently facing.

"Sweetheart…" Hotch held a hand up, taking two more inevitable steps toward her.

Jason watched as she backed away. "Don't, Hotch. I'm tired of it. I _can't take it._"

Hotch visibly flinched at her words. "Emily, please. You know it's not like that."

"What is it then? I'm tired of hiding, Hotch. I want, need, and deserve more than to be a dirty little secret. The whole time I was in there, I _knew _you were listening. And I knew you sent Dave in for a reason. But it's been a whole week, and you've not said one word to me. Just buried your head in paperwork. You have got to stop hiding from things!" Emily said in such a low tone Jason struggled to make out her words. Her voice suddenly rose. "And stop with the guilt! You're as bad as Reid! Neither one of you is at fault for what happened. Cyrus is. And me. I'm the one who blew my cover when he was going to shoot Reid. And dammit, I'd do it again! What I can't do again is watch you keep pulling away. Hiding."

She turned and walked back up the steps. Hotch stepped after her, his hands dropping to grasp her shoulders.

Jason watched as her head bowed, and her shoulders slumped. She shrugged Hotch's grip away. "Don't. I'm tired of being a secret. I deserve better than that. Why are you even here?"

Jason found himself nodding. Emily Prentiss did deserve more from a man, but he could certainly understand Hotch wanting to keep his private life separate from the BAU.

"I'm here because I can't _not _be, Emily." Hotch said, he followed her, a sureness in his movements now. Jason was struck by the naked longing on Hotch's face as he looked down at his subordinate.

As far as Jason knew, the two hadn't even _liked _each other for most of the time she'd been at the BAU. He'd thought he understood it—Prentiss was adamant about hating politics, yet Hotch had been forced on numerous occasions to play those very games. And he did it well. Jason had always suspected Emily's distrust of the unit chief came from that very thing.

But to see them now, it made a different kind of sense to Jason. Hotch had been married—rocky—but married, when Emily had transferred in. She'd been defensive, but eager to prove herself. And Hotch hadn't exactly been too welcoming. When Jason had left the BAU the two had barely talked, and rarely worked together. No, he'd always kept her with him, Jason remembered. Or he and Hotch had left her with Morgan.

If Jason had been honest, it would have surprised him much less to see Emily having a relationship with Derek—or even _Dave—_before picturing her with Hotch. But the more he thought of it, the more it made some sort of sense to him. They were both private people, both prided themselves on being calm and in control, both were familiar with politics, both were protectors of those they cared about. So yes, it did make a strange sort of sense to Jason.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Emily demanded, in a defeated tone. "That you don't want to be here? Well, I don't want you here. I came up here to get away, Hotch. To have some time to think. To make some decisions about what I want from now on."

"And what have you decided?" Jason wondered if Emily had caught the underlying note of fear in Hotch's words, too. "Emily?"

"I don't know. And I hate that, I really do. I always have a plan for my life, Hotch. And you've taken that away from me, now. I don't know if I can keep doing this, that. I just don't know." Emily admitted; her body tensed when the sound of another vehicle was heard in the drive. "Who's that?"

"I don't know." Hotch said. Jason watched as he instinctively put himself between her and the drive. Jason watched through the binoculars as a dark, standard issue Bureau SUV pulled in, followed by a dark sedan.

He watched bemused as the rest of the team he'd left behind piled out. Garcia, that wonderfully colorful woman Gideon had come to greatly admire, bustled around the front of the sedan headed toward the passenger side. The door opened and a heavily pregnant blonde emerged. Jason smiled, seeing the face of the sweet little media liaison. So JJ was going to be a momma, he dropped the binoculars to her hand, searching for a wedding band. He frowned when he didn't see one. JJ deserved better than to be a single mother.

Dave called up to the pair by the steps. "Hotch, what are you doing here?"

"I drove up to check on Prentiss." Hotch said, in a cool tone that didn't betray the fact that he and the woman in question had been shouting at each other just seconds before they'd pulled in. "What are you all doing up here?"

"Checking on Emily." Reid said, struggling with an awkward bag of groceries he'd pulled from the back of the SUV.

"Not us." Garcia said, hugging the dark-haired woman. "JJ and I came to party, slumber-style. Met up with the rest of this posse at a gas station where we stopped to let JJ pee for the one hundred and eightieth time."

"You try having a watermelon sitting on your bladder." JJ called from where she stood near the porch. "Speaking of which, I gotta go!"

Jason found himself smiling at their exchange. God, he had missed them! He hadn't realized how much until seeing them rally around Prentiss, who'd apparently caught the wrong end of a case.

"Hotch, man, you could have told us you planned on driving up here, we would have made room in the SUV." Morgan said, as he moved to hug Prentiss. He lingered with his arms around her, back toward Hotch.

Jason wondered if he was the only one who caught the way Hotch's expression darkened as Emily clung to the darker man.

Jason watched as Emily stepped back from Derek before turning to throw a look over her shoulder at Hotch. That look had Jason holding his breath—it was filled with a naked challenge that basically told Hotch he had a lot of work to do if he wanted to preserve whatever relationship he had going with the woman.

Jason wondered what the younger man would do. If he'd be brave enough to fight for whatever it was he wanted from Emily Prentiss.

Jason retreated quietly as the team all piled inside Dave's cabin, most laughing and joking about who would be stuck sleeping on the front porch and who got the loft beds. Jason was strangely reluctant to leave, but he couldn't force himself to walk up and knock on Dave's door. Not yet.

Hotch wasn't the only coward when it came to personal relationships. Jason was, too.

_**(This one has been on my mind—in some ways—for a long time, although Minimal Loss is a recent episode, I always wondered what happened to Gideon, and had several scenarios with him and Emily/Hotch in mind. This one worked best, I think. This is my first time writing a fic with Gideon in it…Updates will probably be slow, but I am working on all my stories…just please be patient…and don't ask when I'll update…just know that I will….sometime….I do solemnly swear I will!)**_


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER ONE

Hotch was the first one up, standing at the porch railing that next morning. He'd slept on the couch, fitfully, when all he wanted to do was curl up in the loft next to her. Not that she'd welcome that. Not now.

She'd barely said two words to him since the rest of the team had arrived. Just kept sending him wary looks when no one else was looking.

Damned woman was more stubborn than any UNSUB he'd ever chased down. She avoided him smoother than he would have thought in a three-room cabin plus loft.

Not that Hotch actually blamed her. She was perfectly justified in feeling the way she did. He had lead her on, though unintentionally.

He'd never meant to make her feel ashamed of what had happened between them. They'd been sleeping together since the week after he'd signed the divorce papers. He wasn't sure how it had happened. He'd been drunk, she'd been drunk, and they'd happened to meet up in a bar.

He stared at the sun as it crested the hills in the distance as he thought of that night. He'd rescued her, had actually felt needed for the first time in months. Some damned mountain of a man had thought she wanted him. Had been hassling her. Hotch had realized who she was, and he'd stepped in. Got busted knuckles for his trouble.

She'd led him to her apartment to clean up, and he'd ended up staying the night. It wasn't something he intended to repeat, but that very next week, after a particularly viscious case where he'd told a man his brother _had _committed suicide—he'd found himself waiting outside her door. Waiting until she returned from her…date.

It had hurt him to see her walking up the stairs with another man, a man she apparently had every intention of letting in her condo. She'd been surprised to see him, but he'd brushed it off. Just claimed to be in the neighborhood. Then he'd left, bitter and angry that she'd brought another man up to her condo. He'd hated that man on sight. He'd not spoken to her for days after that, until she'd come to him in West Bune, Texas, concerned for Reid.

He never realized he was the type to hold a grudge. Just like he knew he wasn't the type for a casual affair with a subordinate. It had taken them weeks to get back on an even footing, after that. He knew she hadn't slept with the man, knew it now. Because he believed her when she'd told him nothing happened. But she hadn't owed him an explanation. He'd appreciated her giving him one. Two months later and he was back at her door.

And again three days after Kate's funeral. And every day since then—at least when they weren't on cases. Then it was business as usual for them. He hadn't realized it was splitting her in two. But he should have. Should have known she couldn't continue in secrecy. It wasn't her way to hide. She was so honest it scared him sometimes. He'd backed off, though, after a seven hour car drive back from Ohio. She'd wanted to drive with him, he could see it in her eyes. But she'd backed off, instead turning to get in the vehicle with the rest of the team. He hadn't protested, hadn't wanted her to go with him. Needed time to figure things out. So he'd pulled away. Just suddenly and abruptly pulled away.. And she'd just watched him, a puzzled and hurt expression in her dark eyes.

She'd volunteered to go with Reid to Colorado, and he half expected it was to put some space in between them. She'd been the one to do what she had to do to protect those inside that building. And he'd never even acknowledged how he'd felt about her, how absolutely terrified he'd been listening to each blow and abuse heaped on her by that bastard.

Then she'd come limping out, looking like all she wanted in the world was for him to hold her. And he didn't. He'd just pulled away, letting fear keep them apart. She'd covered it well, turning to hug _someone _she cared about. Reid had clung to her freely, openly.

She'd barely looked at Hotch since. Hadn't really spoken to him since.

And then he'd come in to work yesterday morning to find a pink post-it note with Dave's writing saying Emily had filed for a few days' personal time. She'd ran away from him. Just ran. And that wasn't like her, she never ran from anything.

He hated that he could make her do that. It showed him just exactly how hurt she actually was. It burned him inside to realize he was the son of a bitch who'd caused her to run that way. Why was it he always ended up hurting the ones he loved?

Hotch spewed coffee over the frost-touched grass in front of the porch as he realized the direction his thoughts had traveled.

Was he in love with Emily? He didn't know. He honestly didn't know. And if he was, that terrified him even more. Hotch didn't have a good track record loving women. He'd loved only one in his life, up to this point, and he hadn't been enough for Hayley.

He doubted he could be enough for Emily, either. Hadn't he already failed her in every way a man could? He'd failed to keep her safe, he'd failed to let her know how he felt, he'd failed to acknowledge her the way a man involved with her would want to.

He'd failed to at least let her know how much she meant to him when all was said and done.

If he was even half the man he should be, he'd walk up those stairs to the loft she currently shared with Garcia and JJ and let her—and everyone else in the room—know exactly how he felt about that wonderful, intriguing, and beautiful woman.

But he was too big of a coward to even take that first step.

Instead he sat his coffee mug on the wooden rail, a rail he remembered Dave and Jason carving together while he watched, and loped off into the woods. Maybe a walk would help him rearrange his thoughts in his head, help him determine just exactly what it was he wanted from her—and from himself.


	3. Chapter 3

Jason Gideon fought the urge to hike back to Dave's cabin. He just wanted to see the team, check and see how they'd all changed. Check and see if the team was aware of whatever it was going on between Aaron and Agent Prentiss.

Jason had always been an insanely curious man.

He rolled his bedroll and secured it tightly, then stuffed it tightly in the hollowed out tree trunk he'd found. He always 'packed' his things before leaving on his adventures for the day. And right now, he was just too close to the team to risk being uncovered. He wasn't ready to talk to them just yet—didn't know if he ever would be—and he knew that Morgan, at least, wouldn't be content to just lounge around the cabin. No, the athletic younger man would be prowling the woods looking for something to entertain himself.

And he'd probably drag Reid out with him.

Jason wasn't ready to face them, especially the boy he'd considered something like his second son. No, he wasn't ready to face anyone of them yet.

But he wasn't to get his wish. He'd just rounded the largest tree in the path when he found himself face to face with the person he'd probably been the closest to in the last five years.

"Gideon!" Hotch said, face blank with complete surprise. "What the hell are you doing out here?"

"Camping." Jason said, stupidly. "Enjoying the earth."

HOTCHEMILYHOTCHEMILYHOTCHEMILY

Hotch couldn't have been more surprised if he'd seen a polar bear in the middle of the woods. He'd honestly never expected to see Jason again. To see him less than five hundred yards from Dave's cabin absolutely floored him.

Jason looked good, his hair had grown a bit, though he was still clean shaven. His skin was tanned and healthy looking. He looked ten years younger than the last time Hotch had seen him. He wondered why it surprised him, that, until he remembered that he himself looked ten years _older _since taking over full responsibility for the team.

"How long have you been in these woods?" He asked, as all the anger he'd felt over Jason's sudden deflection resurfaced. Plus, it was easier to be angry at Gideon than face the anger Hotch had been feeling toward himself—and Emily.

"How long you been with Prentiss?" Jason retorted. Hotch took a step back.

"You know?" Hotch demanded. "How?"

"Overheard a bit of your conversation yesterday." Jason admitted calmly. He moved to sit on a log, and pulled out a small pocket-knife. He fished around for a piece of wood and then began carving distractedly. "How long you and Hayley been over?"

"Since the week after you disappeared." Hotch said, bluntly, as he moved to sit on a rock across from the older man. "Came home from a case and she'd left. But it was over long before that. Before the suspension. As for me and Emily—a few months after that. Nothing we planned, just sort of drifted into it."

"It doesn't really surprise me. You two would suit, now that I've thought about it. She's a wonderful woman. And like you told me once, there is probably nothing the woman is not prepared for."

"Except me." Hotch said, flatly. "I've hurt her, Jason, and I never meant to."

"Just like I never meant to hurt the team. But I did." Jason admitted. "And I will regret that until my end. But I have to go on. So do you. What do you want to do about it?"

"I don't know." Hotch said. "What do you plan to do about how you hurt the team?"

"Been thinking about that. How long do you all plan to stay?" Jason asked, "Thought I'd stop by right before you left. If you all wanted me too."

"They'd be happy to see you." Hotch said. "You left a bit of a hole, Jason. Dave's found a new fit, but you're still missed. Always will be."

"How have things changed?" Jason asked. "I saw JJ, she happy?"

"Nice guy, her fiancé." Hotch said. "Remember the detective we met in New Orleans?"

"La Montaigne?" Jason asked, surprise evident in his voice. "How's that working out for the team?"

"He's relocating to Washington. Said there was nothing left in Louisiana for him." Hotch had admired the younger man for having the courage to go after what he wanted, to say hell with his career and the life he'd always known in order to be with the woman he loved. Hotch wondered if he could do the same.

Could he give up the BAU for Emily? He couldn't do it for Hayley and Jack. He couldn't do it for Emily, either. No matter how much he wanted to. But unlike Hayley, Hotch _knew _beyond a doubt that Emily would never ask that of him. Never.

So why couldn't he be the man _she _needed him to be? Was he that big of a coward? Was he less of a man than Will La Montaigne?

Hotch didn't want to think so, so what could he do about it?

"Good. JJ deserves to be happy, and the man seemed like a good guy." Jason said. "Hotch, how's Spencer?"

"Better. It's been a bit of struggle. He's been clean for a year now."

"I saw him and Emily on the news last week. Just happened to be in a diner where they were playing updates. That where she got the bruises? She ok? Physically?" Jason's voice held a tone Hotch couldn't identify.

"Will be. The bastard did a real number on her. Reid feels guilty for not being able to protect her."

"He the only one?" Jason asked, astutely. "That behind your argument yesterday?"

"Partially." Hotch admitted. "And partially because I'm a damned coward."


	4. Chapter 4

Hotch mulled over his own words after he left Gideon. He was a coward, had always been when it came to taking chances with the women in his life. Because he knew it hurt too much to lose those he cared about. And because, most of all, he feared losing himself. Hadn't that been the root of his difficulties with Hayley? He'd not wanted to give her that large part of himself, because deep down, he'd known she wouldn't understand that part of him. That dark, warrior part of him that urged him to fight to protect those he considered weak.

Emily wasn't weak, but he'd wanted to protect her. And he'd failed at that miserably—he couldn't even protect her from himself.

He approached the cabin slowly, seeing the people milling about on the porch. He took a moment to observe them, to take in the obvious closeness between some of them. Emily was teasing Reid again. He loved watching her do that. Probably always would. He remembered the first time she'd done it in front of him. It was after they'd settled whatever difference had popped up between them during the case when they'd all met La Montaigne for the first time. Some little college student had come up to Reid and flirted with him shamelessly. The boy hadn't known how to respond and had looked to Emily for help. She'd been standing closest to him—Morgan and Hotch having been thirty feet away. Observing—Hotch always felt like he did nothing but observe her. Always watching, but never a part—that's how he felt his role had changed within the team.

Emily had boldly and seductively stroked Reid's face, and glared at the college girl until she'd retreated. Then, once she was sure the girl was out of earshot, she'd laughed—a deep, wicked sound that had pierced him straight through the gut. Hayley hadn't been gone two weeks, and he'd experienced his first surge of lust for another woman while standing in the middle of a Portland college quad. He loved hearing her laugh like that.

He didn't think he'd ever told her that.

Now, she stood near the corner of the railing on which Morgan sat perched, her shoulders resting in the man's hands as he casually rubbed. Morgan was always touching her, more relaxed with her than anyone else. Hotch hated Morgan's hands on her more than any other man's. Dave touched her, too, but not nearly as much as Morgan. He hated it when Morgan touched her. He'd never told her that, either. What would she say if she knew that it burned him to see another man anywhere that lithe body that he'd touched so intimately.

Would she even care now? Had he killed every feeling she had for him by being such a cold idiot? Had he truly lost her? Would he be forced to work with her every day and know that no possibility existed of him going home with her that _night? _

Worse, would he be forced to sit back and watch as she found someone else, someone more opened to being with her? Forced to watch her fall in love with another man—Morgan, perhaps? Another man who could give her what she wanted and needed?

Hotch didn't think he could do that. He couldn't lose her, too. He _loved _her way too much for that to happen.

But how was he to show her that?

"Hey, Hotch, man, where've you been? We were wondering if you hightailed it back to civilization." Morgan snorted, and Hotch watched his hands as they continued to knead Emily's shoulders.

He should be the one soothing any aches she felt. Not Morgan.

But she wouldn't even meet his eyes.

"I went for a walk. Did some thinking." Hotch said, noncommittally. He tried to catch her eye, but she continued to look away. "I'm hungry. Have we decided whose turn to cook it is?"

"Not Reid's." JJ called from just inside the cabin. "That's as far as we've gotten. And Emily gets a pass on kitchen duty for a while as well."

"Jayje…" Emily said. "I told you I'm fine. _And, _I can cook, unlike some of you."

And she could, Hotch knew. She'd cooked for him on many occasions.

"You most certainly can." Morgan said, with a grin of appreciation. "You are one hell of a woman, after all."

"And don't you forget it." She looked over her shoulder at Morgan and Hotch felt the fist of unreasoning anger twisting his gut. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from snarling at the slightly younger man. She was almost _too _comfortable with Morgan. She should be smiling up at him. He moved closer, taking the first step up onto the porch.

"I'll cook, and Emily can help if she likes." Hotch volunteered, trying to convey to her that he wanted to talk. Just to talk. No pressure.

She looked at him then, and he didn't miss the touch of fear in her big eyes. Fear that only the man who loved her could understand, because _he _was the one responsible for the hurt that caused it. Hotch almost wished Morgan and Dave—hell, even Reid—would take him out back and beat the shit out of him for the hurt he'd caused her. He'd deserve it.

So when the bullet pierced his shoulder, he almost welcomed the pain.

He fell forward, his eyes wide and meeting hers before he was able to catch himself on the back of the wooden swing Jason had made nearly a decade ago. He heard his name on her lips, saw the movement of Morgan and Dave pulling their weapons and pointing to the woods surrounding them. Reid, unarmed, was covering Garcia with his own body. But Emily, Emily was unarmed and exposed, moving toward him and away from the door, her eyes frightened. His words were harsh as he issued one order. "Get inside!"


	5. Chapter 5

Hotch's hand covered the hole in his shoulder as he dragged himself toward the open door. Emily's body moved between his and the shooter, and he ruthlessly shoved any pain he felt away. He wrapped his free arm—the uninjured one—around her narrow waist and rolled, putting her half-beneath him. "Go. Get inside! Now!"

She didn't hesitate, just crawled toward the door six feet away, as more bullets tore into the wood above their heads. It was impossible to tell who was the target. She reached the door and turned back toward him, grabbing his shirt and pulling him inside just seconds before Reid and Garcia reached the door. Then it was Dave and Morgan's turn.

Hotch moved behind the couch, putting the furniture between him and the direction of the shooter, trusting the rest of his team to find some sort of cover. He wasn't concerned with the rest of the team then, his only thought was making sure the woman whose body he covered was safe. Emily was shaking beneath him, from fear and adrenaline. "Where's your weapon, sweetheart?"

It was the first time he'd ever used an endearment with her while in the presence of their colleagues—but no one noticed. He wouldn't have cared if they had, not at this point.

"Purse." She motioned toward the now closed door and the table beside it, where her black leather bag rested innocuously. To get it, she'd have to go back near the vulnerable door with its thinner wood, and glass window. A perfect target. "Yours?"

She knew he always carried, always. Her hand ran behind him, a touch he'd felt in a variety of countless ways. She withdrew the weapon, switching it from safety. She took a deep breath, and pulled his hand away from the bloody mess that was his shoulder. "How bad is it?"

"Not bad. I've had worse, actually." He pulled her back underneath him when she moved to rise partially. "Stay down. We need to focus, determine how many shooters we're facing."

"I can't do that if you're holding me down, Hotch." Her words were whispered quickly and she squirmed. "And I want to see your shoulder. No arguments."

"Morgan!" Hotch ignored her words, just held her tight, his free hand resting on the back of her neck. "Status!"

"Uninjured! No line on the shooter, or shooters! I can't determine how many! You, man? Emily?"

"Minor injury! Reid?" Hotch yelled back.

"Garcia and I are behind the chair, no weapons, no injuries!" The youngest agent responded.

"Dave?"

"Covering JJ! We're currently stable near the counter! We need to get Garcia and JJ to the basement! No entry from the outside down there!" Dave yelled. "Trap door is in the kitchen behind the table!"

"On the count of three, Garcia, I want you to head toward the kitchen! Stay low!" Hotch ordered. "Then Dave, get JJ in there, and open the door! Then Emily's coming!"

"Hotch!" She whispered near his ear. "I'm armed, I don't need to be in the basement!"

"Someone needs to stay with JJ and Garcia. If this son of a bitch gets in, that'll mean he's gotten through the rest of us. I need you down there with them!" He squeezed her nape gently. "Please! I'm going to get your weapon. Then we need to get Reid's before we can have a fighting chance. Don't argue, Agent Prentiss!"

"Yes, sir." Her words held a bite that he knew he'd have to deal with later—as a lover, not a supervisor.

"And honey, please be careful." He whispered this against her ear, kissed her forehead softly before giving her the signal to head toward the kitchen. He only wished he'd had the courage to express his feelings for her in front of the others, and not when they were hidden by the damned couch. She was right, she did deserve to be more than a secret. When it was over, he'd make it up to her. Somehow.

DUHNDUHDUNHDUHHHHHHH

Jason was washing his camping plate and cup when he heard a succession of rapid shots. He jerked, hand going automatically toward the Sig on his hip. He'd carried a weapon everyday since he'd joined the Bureau, and retirement would probably never change that.

As the first shot rang out, Jason hit the ground, rolling. Then he realized the shots weren't aimed at him. When it became clear just _where _the shots were coming from, Jason cursed.

It wasn't rifle shots he heard, lifelong experience told him that. It was handguns—and at least two. Maybe more.

And they were coming from the direction of Dave's cabin. The cabin where some of the only people Jason cared about were—as he crept up the path toward God only knew what, images of the cabin's occupants flashed through his mind: JJ and her smiling face and baby-belly, Garcia in her bright clothes, Reid in his absentminded professor clothes, Morgan and his apparent hero-complex, Dave and the years they'd worked together, closer than brothers. Hotch and the heart that he poured into every case, but never let anyone see. Prentiss and her tendency to overcompensate for everything. Her desire to fit in.

Hotch and Prentiss fighting so passionately just yesterday. He hoped to God they'd get the chance to work things out between themselves. Hoped to God he'd get to see them again, and make it up to them, explain just why he'd taken off the way he had.

EMILYHOTCHEMILYHOTCHEMILYHOTCH

Hotch's arm stung like a bitch, but he continued to ignore it. Emily, JJ, and Garcia were down in the basement, now. As safe as he could make them, and he turned his mind to finding a way to get them—and the rest of the team—out of this safely.

He only had one question—who in the hell were these bastards shooting at? And why, with nearly the entire team on the porch, had _he _been shot? Was it him?

If not, who the hell was?


	6. Chapter 6

Jason approached Dave's cabin with caution. He saw no one. The shooting had stopped, but that wasn't indicative of anything. The shooters probably were still out there, just waiting for the occupants to venture forth.

Jason knew Hotch and the team knew better than to be that stupid. If he could hazard a guess, he'd say that the team was taking cover in the basement. At least he hoped they were.

He crept around the edge of the property, still covered by the trees, before he saw the first shooter. It was a young guy, probably in his twenties. He wasn't dressed in the proper hunting garb, so Jason seriously doubted he was a deer hunter--no, this guy hunted people.

The man spoke on a radio and Jason stayed still, wanting to be doubly sure to hear the whole message.  
"I've got a line of sight right into the living room window."

The radio crackled a response. 'Any sign of Hotchner or his girl?'

"Negative. But I hit the cold bastard. I know that much." The man responded. Jason's body tensed.

These guys were here after Hotch and Prentiss. For some reason. And they'd hit Hotch. Jason wondered how bad it was. Jason wondered why they were targeted. Was it case specific?

HOTCHEMILYHOTCHEMILY

Hotch waited until he was sure Emily was safely in the basement before inching his way toward the table where her purse waited like a beacon. He pulled the small bag down and dragged it with him behind the couch. Opening it, he found the weapon and a spare clip, along with various other female items. A picture fell out, and he grabbed it hastily. His eyes lingered on Emily's smiling face, sandwiched between JJ and Garcia's. They looked so happy. None of the shadows were in her eyes, not the ones that he put there.  
If they got out of this, he decided, he'd see to it that those shadows were erased one by one.

If that meant openly acknowledging their relationship--and his fears--than so be it. Emily deserved it.  
It might prove difficult, but Hotch made a vow to ensure she was happy, no matter what the cost to him.

Once they figured out who was shooting at them.

"Morgan!" He yelled, "You see anything?"

"Negative!" Morgan responded. "The girls ok?"

"All are in the basement!" Dave yelled, "I think we should all get in there and come up with a strategy!"

"Dave, you and Reid, do that! Morgan and I'll be right behind you!" Hotch said. "You and Emily watch from each window!"

There were four windows in Dave's basement, six inches tall and just enough for basic illumination. They faced opposite directions, and would give the BAU team an eye on North, South, East, and West. It would be hard for the shooters to sneak up on them with all four sides covered.

"Hotch! You get downstairs first, get that shoulder taken care of!" Dave ordered. "You won't be any good to the team if you pass out from loss of blood!"

"Reid, first!" Hotch ordered. "Then you, Dave!"

Thirty seconds later and they were all in the basement. JJ and Garcia helped Hotch remove his shirt, using Derek's knife. Then they began cleaning away the blood. Hotch was never more grateful for the half-bath he'd helped Dave add to the cabin six years earlier. The rest of the team kept watch out the small windows.

"How bad is it?" Emily asked, in a tight voice. Hotch shot a quick look in her direction.

She wasn't looking at him, had her eyes trained out her window. But he'd heard the underlying worry in her words. He knew she wanted to be the one taking care of he'd been open about how they felt about each other, she would have been the one kneeling at his side. Taking care of him. As was her right.  
Just like he wanted to be the one to always take care of her. As was his right. "It's not bad. I'll be ok."

"Who's pissed someone off enough to do this?" Morgan asked.

"The question is--who's the target? Was someone followed up here?" Dave began. "Are they after me? Emily--you weren't exactly secretive about coming up here, either. The rest of you--it was spur of the moment."

"But that doesn't mean we weren't followed." Morgan said. "But good chances are they were after either Dave or Emily."

"Or Gideon." Hotch said, suddenly remembering the other secret he held. "Gideon's camping down by the creek. I ran into him this morning. It could be him they're after."

Various exclamations followed his words, the only one not reacting being Emily. She just kept darting little glances between him and the landscape outside her window, before speaking. "Why is he here?"

"Just relaxing. Fishing. Said he was going to come by later this afternoon." Hotch said. "Surprised me. I came around a corner and we were face-to-face."

"So he's out there, and he knows we're here." JJ said. "Chances are good he'll recognize the shots and get help."

"Or he'll come riding to the rescue, and potentially get himself shot." Dave countered.

"But we can't be worried about what Jason will do." Hotch said, as JJ poured antiseptic on his shoulder. The bullet had just grazed him, slicing a furrow in the flesh. It wouldn't require stitches, but it had to be cleaned. His in-drawn breath was enough to drag Emily's attention away from the window momentarily.  
Hotch's eyes met hers and he smiled ever-so-slightly, trying to convey that he'd be fine. He saw her lip tremble from clear across the room, but she squared her shoulders, the inscrutable ambassador's-daughter mask she wore slipping over her features. She looked away.

Nothing--not even coming home from Milwaukee and finding Hayley gone--had hurt him so much.  
She'd turned away, and he'd immediately gotten a preview of what his life would be like if she chose not to be with him anymore.

He knew then he wouldn't ever let that happen.

It was time he stopped being a coward and faced his feelings for Emily Prentiss.

As soon as they found out who was shooting at them.


	7. Chapter 7

Everything stalled fifteen minutes after Hotch's shoulder was bandaged. No shots fired, no…nothing. The team sat around, warily, each one guarding their window, with Hotch spelling them occasionally.

Two hours and they were beginning to get impatient. He stepped up behind Emily, one hand rising unconsciously to rest on her narrow shoulder. It always..surprised…him to feel her beneath his hands, to feel how delicate she actually was. Such narrow shoulders for all that she carried there.

And it made him infinitely guilty to know he was responsible for some of that burden. Not anymore, though. As soon as they were out of this situation he'd make it up to her. One or the other.

"Sweetheart?" He only half-whispered the words against her temple. "Ready for a break?"

She didn't look at him, just nodded slowly. She turned in his direction, and his eyes caught on the still visible bruising on her cheek. One hand rose to sooth it slightly. She pulled away. His hand dropped. "Emily, I'm…"

Before he could say anything else, the window in front of them shattered with the force of a bullet.

Hotch didn't think, just grabbed her and pulled her to the floor, covering her body with his, as the rest of the room erupted.

JASONGIDEONJASONGIDEONJASONGIDEON

Gideon waited for the opportune time. He wasn't a young man, unlike his target, so he knew he'd have to time his attack just right.

He didn't think it would take over two hours to isolate the man. He lay on his stomach listening to the men—three in all as they discussed their options with at least one other via a radio. It was definitely Hotch they were after.

But it was _Emily _the men really wanted. Simply to make Hotch suffer. Everyone else would just be collateral damage. But hearing what they planned to do to Emily—with Hotch watching—burned Jason, made him just as determined to stop _them _as he had been to stop that bastard Frank. The more graphic they became in their descriptions, the more Jason's anger grew.

And when Jason Gideon got angry, he grew even more cunning.

They were not going to lay one finger on _anyone _in that cabin. But especially not Emily. The woman had enough on her plate as it was.

So Jason waited, watched, and plotted. And when the two men left, isolating the third, Jason pounced.

He'd just subdued the young man when a shot rang out. He jerked his captive to the forest floor.

HOTCHEMILYHOTCHEMILYHOTCHEMILY

Hotch could feel her trembling against him, again. "God, sweetheart, are you ok? Were you hit?"

He felt her nod.

"Hotch! Emily! Dammit, are you two ok?" Morgan moved toward them, keeping low. Hotch sat up partially, knowing that because the window was low, they'd not be able to get a line on anyone sitting on the floor. Emily was still trembling beneath him, lying flush to the floor.

Glass shards glittered in her dark hair, in the creases of her once neatly pressed pants.

He clutched her free hand in his. The gesture an unconscious desire to comfort her anyway he could.

It was one thing for them to be put in dangerous situations because of a case, it was another to have an attack on their home turf. When they were on leave, vacation. Resting. Like there was no clear separation between their work and their personal lives. He didn't know if she'd ever had that happen to her before. She'd been there for it happening to Derek, and Gideon, but had it ever happened to her?

He hoped not.

"I'm fine. Emily, honey?" He didn't even notice he'd used the endearment until Derek's brow lifted. Hotch didn't care. He didn't care that his shoulder twinged when he sat his gun down and lifted Emily into a sitting position.

It was then that he saw the blood. He cursed, hands going immediately to cover hers. "Sweetheart, come on, let me see!"

JASONGIDEONJASONGIDEONJASONGIDEON

Jason waited until the radio crackled with one of the other bastards crowing "I think I got the bastard!"

"He better not have had. You understand me, boy?" Jason growled in the man's ear. "You're going to get on that radio, and order you're men to fall back, understand? If not, I'll show you what I've learned working for the FBI for over thirty years. I've worked serial crimes since before you were born, there are things I've seen that you will never, ever, be able to imagine. And I can do everyone of those things to another human being when those I love are threatened. So do it."

The bastard cooperated.

Jason's smile was grim as he nodded, then looked toward the afternoon sun. "And now we wait."

HOTCHEMILYHOTCHEMILYHOTCHEMILYHOTCHEMILY

Hotch wasn't deaf to the fear in his tone, fear he didn't even bother to suppress. He'd decided hours ago that he was done hiding how he felt about her.

And seeing her lying beneath him with blood staining her cream sweater, he cursed himself for ever wasting a second of their precious time together.

Morgan was at his side, helping him brush the glass from her hair and clothing. "Em, come on, girl. How bad is it?"

"I've not been hit, guys." She said, "But I think the glass cut me. And Hotch landed on my ribs. Air knocked out."

Hotch realized he was still straddling her, his knees putting unnecessary constriction on her diaphragm. He moved back, but only slightly. "How bad are you cut?"

"I don't know." She admitted. My side, I think. My arm."

"Your cheek." Morgan said, one hand going up to wipe at the blood dripping down her pale skin. Hotch hated how freely he did that. No work-barrier between Emily and _Derek. _No more. If anyone was going to care for her, it would be _Aaron Hotchner _and no one else.

"Morgan, I'll take care of her, you get that glass cleaned up, and see if there's something to cover the window. They're still out there, probably just waiting for another chance." Hotch ordered, one hand going to the band of her sweater as he spoke. He began to inch it slowly up. He ignored her embarrassed squeak as he pulled it gently over her head. "Hush, Emily. I need to see how bad you're hurt."

"But in _here? _ Hotch-how about a little privacy?" She tried to cover herself as best as possible.

"Nobody's watching. And besides," He lowered his voice so only she—and Morgan—could hear. "It's nothing I haven't seen before, remember?"


	8. Chapter 8

Gideon dragged the boy down the least-used path connecting his campsite to Dave's basement. It took him two precious minutes to find what he was looking for. Twenty years ago, five years before Hotch had joined the team, Gideon had helped Dave install a natural well, pumping the water from an underground spring that ran twenty feet from the cabin. They'd built a small tunnel parallel to the spring that ended behind the paneling in the small, basement bathroom. You had to know it was there to be able to find it, and it was the only way Gideon could think of to get inside the building—without leading the other two bastards straight to the team.

Still, it was obvious that the tunnel wasn't used much, and it was treacherous going. The bastard in front of him stumbled twice, nearly sending them both into the cold water of the spring. Only the fact that the tunnel was narrow enough for Jason to reach each side with his hands kept him steady.

"Quit jacking around, son. You're going to explain to Agent Hotchner exactly what you want, and what you planned to do to his girl, you hear me? So quit delaying the inevitable."

The boy just grunted.

EMILYHOTCHEMILYHOTCHEMILYHOTCH

Emily had convinced him to let Garcia and JJ tend to her, while he helped Derek, first clean up the glass, and second, guard the window. Hotch was beginning to wonder how long they'd be able to last down there.

None of the cell phones were working and the landline had somehow been cut. Garcia had been working on finding an internet signal, but it hadn't happened yet.

The three women were in the bathroom, and the three remaining men turned toward Hotch, questions in their eyes.

"You want to explain what you meant?" Derek asked, keeping his voice down so the women wouldn't hear him.

"About?" Hotch knew where this was leading, and he frankly didn't care. But that didn't mean he was going to volunteer anything.

"What you said to Emily." Derek moved closer, while still keeping his own window covered.

"Now's not the time, Derek. We'll talk when this is finished." Hotch ordered, firmly. Derek would be the one, he thought, who'd assume he had the most right to speak for Emily. He was protective of her, cared a great deal about her—and saw himself as her brother protector. "Right now let's just concentrate on getting us all out of this."

Before anything else could be said, Penelope screamed. Derek bolted straight for the bathroom, Hotch not far behind. Derek threw open the door, weapon drawn, and the three woman tumbled out. Hotch caught JJ before she hit the floor, Garcia was behind her, and Emily stood frozen in shock, staring at the panel of the wall.

It slowly slid open.

"Don't shoot." A male voice rang out. "It's me, Gideon. And a…guest."

"The tunnel." Dave swore. "I forgot all about that entrance. Haven't used it in nearly ten years."

"Probably a good thing." Gideon said, stepping through the bathroom opening, then pulling a young man in army fatigues threw behind him. "I brought you a bit of a present, Hotch. Ladies and Gentlemen, meet Rodney, one of our shooters this fine morning."

Gideon shoved the man into the main room of the basement. The man fell at Hotch's feet. Hotch looked at the young man, then over at Emily, with blood still streaking her arm, staining the cotton tank top she'd worn under her sweater, and unreasoning anger filled him. He reached down and jerked the boy to his feet.

"What the hell is this about? Who were you shooting at and why? Start talking!" His tone never rose, but his words were all the more powerful for the cold fury behind them.

The boy started shaking, looked away. Almost looked to Gideon for help. The former profiler shrugged, stepped back. "Explain boy, exactly what your plans for Agent Prentiss were. For Agent Hotchner. I think _they _have a right to know."

"Why?" Emily asked, confusion written on her beautiful face. "Why would they be here for me?"

"Not you." The boy wheezed, as Hotch tightened his fist in the boy's shirt. The cotton band tightened around his throat until breathing became difficult.

Hotch held him easily, barely even feeling the pain in his wounded shoulder. "Tell me. Now. Or I'll tear you limb from limb. One agonizing inch at a time. Why are you here?"

"We followed the girl." The boy admitted.

"Why, why Emily?" Derek demanded, moving closer. "What had she done to you?"

"We wanted Hotchner." His voice squeaked as he looked at the team leader.

"So you came after Emily?" Reid asked, "Why?"

"We followed her because we knew it was just a matter of time before _he _showed up." The boy jerked his head in Hotch's direction, still dangling from the man's hold on his shirt. "He always does. Like a damned dog following a bitch in heat."

"So you followed _Emily _to what? Lure Hotch?" Derek asked, "Doesn't make sens—Dammit! Hotch!"

"Yes, Morgan." Hotch glanced first at Derek then at Emily. "It would have worked. I would have followed Emily, I did."

"Why?" Dave demanded; it took a moment for them to realize it was the shooter he was addressing and not the couple in question. "Why did you want Hotch?"

"Rodney Matthews." The boy suddenly spat, struggling. "My father."

"That was five years ago." Hotch said. "And Matthews deserved more than what he got."

"He was killed in prison. And it was all your fault!" The boy said. And he was a boy, no more than twenty-two.

"What was that case about?" Emily asked, moving closer to Hotch, eyes trained on the boy. "Hotch?"

"Serial rapist. Raped six women, tried with a seventh. But we stopped him. Plead it out." Hotch summarized. "Matthews had three sons, 17, 16, and 14. That who's out there shooting? Your brothers?"

"Yes." Gideon said. "And Hotch—what they planned to do to Emily doesn't bare repeating, understand?"

Hotch's face darkened, as the man's words sunk in. "I understand completely. Tie him up. We need to work out a strategy."

He dropped the boy on the floor, ignored the rest of the team, and pulled Emily tight into his arms, and just held her.

She didn't fight him, just clung to his shirt, trembled against him.

Hotch stared at the boy and his eyes heated.

Rodney Matthews Jr. swallowed convulsively, filled with complete and sudden fear.


	9. Chapter 9

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Gideon watched Hotch just holding Prentiss there in the middle of Dave's crowded basement, and felt a stab of envy pierce his gut. He hoped the two held on to whatever it was between them with both hands.

A woman who'd understand a man like Hotch—like all of the men in the room, for that matter—was infinitely rare. And Jason knew Hotch was the kind of man who needed a piece of the softer side of life in order to deal with the whole darker pie. He watched the younger man's face as he buried his nose in the silky hair of her head. Wrapped his arms around her narrow frame and just held her pressed against him tightly.

JJ and Garcia just stared, he saw, obviously completely thrown for a loop. Spencer—who'd filled out some since he'd last seen him—kept shooting them puzzled glances. Jason had to smile. The boy had one of the finest minds in the world, but when it came to romantic relationships, he was clueless.

Dave just sat smirking, his expression telling Jason he—at least—had suspected. Jason made a mental note to speak with him later.

But it was Derek's reaction that intrigued Jason the most. He was angry, Jason realized, cataloging the man's tense body, his slight glare as he looked at Hotch. And he, too, was jealous. That was evident in the slightly longing way he watched Hotch's hands touching her back, the way Hotch's hand ran down the smooth skin of the woman's arm to wrap around her elbow as he finally set her away from him slightly.

Jason couldn't tell, though, if it was envy of their obvious connection or of _Hotch _having _Emily _specifically.

Either way, Jason could understand that envy.

HOTCHEMILYHOTCHEMILY

Hotch felt an actual weight lift from his shoulders as he looked around at the rest of his team, saw the realization in all of their eyes. No more keeping her a secret, "Emily, when this is over, you and I are going to have that talk, I promise."

He waited until he felt her nod before stepping away from her completely. He fought the inclination to drop his mouth to hers, and give her a more obvious reassurance. Only that that would probably shock the rest of the room's occupants kept him in check.

Her eyes were clear when she looked at him, clearer than they'd been since he'd arrived. He knew she knew then how he felt. And was ok with it. They would talk later, he mentally vowed, get things worked out between them for good.

Dave cleared his throat, bringing Hotch's attention back to the task at hand. "I think since we know how many and who we're facing, we should go on the offensive. Hotch, Gideon, and I know this terrain better than these boys."

"We'd need to split up." Morgan said, "Get behind them somehow."

Dave moved to a rack next to a work bench and pulled out a notebook and pencil. He quickly began drawing a crude map of the area. "We're here. There's two paths that are apparent that they probably know about, which run here and here.

Jason moved to look over his shoulder. Hotch and the rest of the team did the same. "These are young guys, not too comfortable in the woods. They'd stick to the easy paths. They first thought they'd be watching—terrorizing--a lone female. They didn't put too much planning into this. And they're all a bit soft, overweight. My impression is classic underachievers and lazy. And definitely not marksmen capability. If we were to head out the tunnel here, we could split up here. They've most likely set up their camps here and here. Best vantage points for the shots they've already taken. If Hotch and I go this direction, Morgan and Dave this direction—we shouldn't have any trouble getting behind them."

"And the rest of us?" Emily asked.

"Somebody needs to hold this position and ensure Junior there answers appropriately when or if his brothers radio him." Derek said, squeezing her shoulder. "That's going to be you and Reid."

She shrugged, "Shouldn't Gideon—no offense, sir—be the one to stay behind, since he's no longer an agent?"

She had a point, and Hotch didn't like it. But there was nothing about this plan that he really did like. It involved leaving her—and JJ, Reid, and Garcia—still in the line of fire. "No, he knows the terrain better than I do. And he's not been injured recently. You have."

"So have you." She said, ghosting one hand over his wounded shoulder. The touch was light, but so very intimate. He thrilled at it, momentarily, knowing they no longer had to keep themselves in check in front of the others. He caught her hand and held it.

"Just a scratch. You've broken ribs. I'll be able to move quicker in the woods than you." He explained, knowing how this minor, but potential argument was handled would set the tone for the rest of their working relationship. They had to proof she could follow his orders in the field, in all work situations, in order to continue working together. It was imperative.

"Then you and Gideon should take this direction. " Her free hand pointed to an alternate route on Dave's map. Her voice was husky as she continued. "I walked that way yesterday—there's a few fallen logs that bridge the deepest part of the stream. You'd both be able to cross there, it would cut out a good five minutes of your hike to this point."

Hotch heard what she wasn't saying. She was telling him she trusted him, trusted him to do his job. Trusted him to let her do hers.

He looked at her, and wondered how he could have been such a secretive idiot for so long. He pulled her to him, not thinking—not caring—that they were in the midst of everyone. He dropped a kiss on her forehead, then pulled away. Turned toward the rest of the team. "If we're going to do this, we should do it now."


	10. Chapter 10

Hotch went with Jason, neither man speaking as they took the path Emily had suggested. Hotch had too much on his mind—both his relationship with Emily and finding these bastards and making them pay in a way he hadn't been able to make Cyrus. Nobody hurt Emily without answering to him. Even…him.

It hurt him, knowing how much _he _had hurt her by his thoughtless actions. It was a wonder she _hadn't _left him earlier.

But _God, _did he love her.

More than he'd loved Hayley in a long, long time.

"You're good together." Jason said when they paused to reevaluate their trail. "Funny, isn't it. How the two of you rubbed each other the wrong way when she first joined the team."

"Funny?" Hotch said, he'd given it a lot of thought since those days. "I'd call it basic self-preservation. I was married, remember?"

"Happily? I don't think so. Not long term, anyway. Prentiss, _Emily's, _good for you. I saw that back during the Addie case."

"Oh?" Hotch remembered the case well, it was one of the first where he and Emily had worked the field together. And that case had touched Hotch. He understood why the man had done what he'd done.

"Yes. You were obviously taking the case personally. No one else really wanted to get near you. Yet she was by your side. She does that."

"I know." He remembered just a few days ago, seeing her by Reid on the Leer. Comforting him, while her own face was bloodied and bruised. "She takes care of the people she loves. But she didn't love me then."

"When?"

"After you left, after Hayley left. I got the divorce papers at work. She stopped by my apartment to 'check that I wasn't burying myself in serial killers.' Brought a six-pack. Things just went from there."

"Do you regret it?" Jason asked.

"No. Never. Not for a moment. It's not ideal, for either of us, but I love her."

"Good. Let's get these idiots taken care of. I think you and Agent Prentiss have a lot to talk about. And probably some serious explaining to do to the team." Jason smirked. "Morgan doesn't look too happy."

"They're close. And he's protective. Even from me, apparently."

"He's envious. I watched him. You sure it was just friendship on his part?"

"Same as it is with Garcia. He doesn't like her boyfriend, either." Hotch took the last bend in the trail, his hand resting on his weapon. They were getting closer. "How do you want to do this? Split up or?"

"Take it by ear." Jason said. "I want to get this over with. And I don't like leaving the girls and Reid in the house."

The two men moved in stealthily.

Hotch saw the boy first. He couldn't have been nineteen, still had baby-fat in his cheeks. He was soft, bored, and a bit tired. And scared.

This probably wasn't his idea at all.

The kid handled the rifle inexpertly, keeping it pointed up at the sky. He seemed leery of touching it. He may have fired some of the shots, but Hotch seriously doubted it had been his bullets that struck him or the window.

This kid may stand a chance. Hotch hoped so, even while that hope mingled with the primitive rage of a man whose woman had been injured, targeted, frightened.

Hotch ruthlessly shoved those thoughts away. He had a job to do. "I'm going in there. Keep your weapon trained on him. Let him know I'm not alone. Let him hear you, but not see you."

"You think you're going to be able to reason with him?"

"No. But surprise and experience is on our side." Hotch pulled his weapon higher. "On my count…one…two…three."

He straightened, made his steps deliberate and loud.

The boy jerked around, his hands closing reflexively on the rifle. "Who's there? RJ? Jake? That you?"

"No. It's Agent Hotchner." Hotch said, keeping his voice calm and deliberate. "And a friend. Why don't you put that rifle down so we can talk?"

"No!" The boy visibly trembled. "I know all about you. My mom told me."

"Told you what? That I arrested your father when he raped six women, maybe more? It's the truth. Did she tell you that I am an expert marksmen, and if I want I could easily put a bullet in you before you can even raise that barrel? That's true, too. My friend probably could, too. Say hello, Gideon."

"Hello, Gideon." Jason said, a touch of humor and sarcasm beneath his words.

"He's a bit of a comedian in his old age." Hotch said, moving forward so the boy could see him. It was a risky plan, but he trusted Gideon. "Which brother are you? Charlie?"

"Yes. Where's RJ?"

"We have him. He's currently waiting with Agent Prentiss. We'll soon have Jacob, too. So why don't you put that down and we'll discuss _your _options."

"My options? My options include killing you and your girlfriend."

"No. You can put that gun down, give yourself up, and maybe we can talk this out. Nobody's been seriously hurt here, Charlie. It's not too late. And I don't think it was you who shot at me this morning. You were just following along with your brothers. _You _wouldn't really have hurt Agent Prentiss."

"Yes, I would. She'd deserve it! You deserve it! My dad died because of you."

"No. You're dad died because he hurt people. Made bad decisions that landed him in even worse positions. Don't repeat his mistakes."

They went round and round, until finally the boy gave in to Hotch's greater experience. He laid the weapon at his feet then stepped back.

Hotch kept his weapon trained on him, as he and Jason moved forward. In less than two minutes they had the young man secured and walking back up the path toward the house.

Derek, Dave, and the boy Jacob were already waiting in the basement, the Matthews brothers tied interrogation-style to two wooden kitchen chairs.

Derek's knuckles were swelling, and he sat with a satisfied grin on his face. The older brother just sat watching, a look of defeat and anger on his face.

The middle brother was almost pouting.

When they pushed him into the room, the youngest brother was almost crying.

"We have a phone signal." Dave said, as soon as his eyes met Hotch's. "Garcia was busy while we were out 'bear' hunting, as she called it. Local sheriff's on his way."

"It's almost finished." Emily said, her words soft and tired. Her eyes met Hotch's and his breath caught.

For the two of them—it was a new beginning.


	11. Chapter 11

EPILOGUE

The team left, letting Hotch and Emily have the cabin to themselves for a few days. It went unsaid that the two had some seriously unfinished business to work out.

But everyone trusted that _they _would work it out.

Hotch knew he'd have to have a long discussion with Derek, probably even one with Dave. Reid seemed ok with things, and Hotch knew that was because the boy looked at both him and Emily as something larger than life. Mommy and Daddy, in a way.

God knows Reid hadn't had much of a traditional family, and it didn't surprise Hotch that the genius was shaping the team into a family-substitute.

It had started with Gideon. And the two of them were currently having a deep discussion of their own.

Dave and Derek had bullied Reid into joining them and Gideon camping by the river.

JJ and Garcia had chosen a smarter option—a hotel in the nearest town.

So Hotch had two days to make Emily realize that he loved her beyond measure.

And he couldn't wait to get started.

But first, he had to find her.

It took two minutes.

The porch swing.

She waited.

For him.

"Em?"

"Yes?"

"I love you."

(YEAH! FINISHED ANOTHER ONE!!!!!!!!! PLEASE REVIEW AND LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!)


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